Perusing the Guam Pacific Daily News this morning reminded me of a rather romantic narrative (a revisionist history if you will) I apparently created from whole cloth about my mom a long time ago. Every so often she would refer to her time in Guam when I was very little. Some how I understood this to be the time that the big evil law firm she worked for right out of law school had sent her there for some case for six months right after her first child was born. It was just me and my dad, boppin' around. I helped him with his dolphin research. He learned how to braid my hair. I always thought that this unreasonable assignment (sending a mother across the Pacific, away from her young child for six months) was the reason my mom left the firm and started working for the state of California instead. WELL it turns out that I concocted all of this. She was only gone for two weeks. And it was when she had a federal clerkship not when she was doing the firm thing. Weird.
And that's my Guam story.
It makes me doubt other memories from my youth (first Santa, now this whole thing with my mom's tragic trip to Guam). Can any of you actually confirm that my little brother exists? Or that Richie Sambora didn't come over all the time to watch Padres games with us?
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